


Drunken Escapades

by fitz-and-simmons (fitzandjemma)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Break Ins, Drunk Fic, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, also fitz cries when drunk and being shouted at, they are all just normal people for some reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzandjemma/pseuds/fitz-and-simmons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You broke into my flat drunk and I should call the police AU. Drunk fic. </p><p>~~~</p><p>She had been awoken by a noise coming from her little kitchen. It was a clattering.</p><p>Immediately Jemma Simmons was on her guard. She slowly got out of bed and reached for nearest heavy object (a lamp). She tried to calm herself. Maybe something was up with the oven? Had a cat gotten in?</p><p>But then the sound of muffled swearing and more clattering dispelled all nice notions of faulty boilers and old pipes.</p><p>Someone had broken into her flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Escapades

**Author's Note:**

> Random AU time! 
> 
> I wrote this to cure my writer's block with regards to This Year.

She’d been dreaming she was back in secondary school. Except all the corridors were different and there were zombie cats trying to kill her. It hadn’t been a pleasant dream but she was still perturbed to have been brought out of it.

She had been awoken by a noise coming from her little kitchen. It was a clattering.

Immediately Jemma Simmons was on her guard. She slowly got out of bed and reached for nearest heavy object (a lamp). She tried to calm herself. Maybe something was up with the oven? Had a cat gotten in?

But then the sound of muffled swearing and more clattering dispelled all nice notions of faulty boilers and old pipes.

Someone had broken into her flat.

She unplugged the lamp and raised it above her head as she crept out of her room and down the tiny corridor, trying to swallow down the terror that had risen in her throat.

The kitchen door was cracked open. She peeped in and was greeted with the sight of a man in her apartment. The window was open behind him and pots were strewn on the floor around him.

He didn’t look like a burglar, or at least not like any burglar she was aware of. Instead of wearing black he had on a blue shirt and a grey cardigan. He was too noisy to be a burglar and he seemed more interested in trying to stand up than stealing stuff.

Still, an intruder’s an intruder.

She took a deep breath and burst open the door. She waved the lamp around, shrieking, trying to frighten him. He started to scream too and raised his hands to protect his face.

“Who are you?!” They both exclaimed at the same time.

“No.” Simmons said, waving the lamp around for effect “You broke into my flat, you answer my questions.”

“Your flat?”

“Well who else’s would it be?”

“Not… Not Trip’s?” He asked hesitantly. She lowered the lamp.

“I don’t know any Trip.” Getting a better look at him, he was clearly a little drunk. His eyes were bloodshot and he was dazed and confused.

“I thought this was his flat I swear.” He got up, swaying a little.

Moving hesitantly, Simmons reached for the kitchen phone. She picked it up out of the cradle.

“I’m calling the police.”

“What?!” He seemed more frightened than before. “No, please! This was a mistake!”

“I don’t care, it’s breaking and entering.” Her thumb brushed the rubber buttons, locating the 9. She pressed it once.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll go, I’ll go.” She pressed it twice. “I’m sorry I’m drunk I’m sorry. I don’t want to go to prison!” She pressed it a third time and moved her thumb over the call button.

He started to cry. Big fat tears were rolling down his face.

“Please… Please…” He blubbered. Her kind heart paused her thumb as she took pity on him.

“Ok.”

“You won’t?”

“I won’t. This is clearly some kind of mistake. “

“Thank you thank you.” He gabled. His breath reeked of booze. 

“But I can’t have you wondering around town drunk either. You can crash here tonight.”

He seemed to mutely accept this.

What was she thinking? She couldn’t let a random drunk person stay in her flat! But he was so scared. And sloshed. She couldn’t make him find his own way home like this.

“But!” She stepped forward threateningly “If you try anything I will pass on your description to the police and you’ve already left dozens of fingerprints here already.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

She stepped aside, leaving the doorway empty.

“Living room’s on your left. You can take the sofa. I’ll get you some blankets.”

He rushed forward, partially out of terror and partially out of gratitude. She retrieved the spare blankets from her room and tossed them at him as he stood nervously in the middle of her room. Wordlessly, she returned to her room and he lay down on the sofa. He was asleep in less than a minute.

~~~

He woke up to a splitting headache and an unfamiliar room. There was a pretty woman in her pajamas leaning against the doorframe, watching him.

Unconsciously, he reached his hand up to straighten his tie but he wasn’t wearing one.

Fitz sat up. The movement seemed to hurt his head even more and he groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Where am I?”

“You broke into my flat last night.”

“Wha…” He looked up in astonishment. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“You mentioned someone called Trip.”

“Oh. Ohhhh.” Realisation dawned on him. He looked around and sure enough the architecture was similar to Trip’s. “Wrong flat. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Well I was going to call the police but I felt sorry for you when you started crying.”

“I cried?! Now, that really doesn’t sound like me.” How embarrassing. He broke into this pretty girl’s flat and wept at her. This was awful.

She chuckled at his discomfort and for the second time took pity on him.

“Pancakes?” She shifted away from the doorframe and uncrossed her arms.

“Pancakes sound great but I don’t want to put you out. I don’t even know your name.”

“Simmons. Jemma Simmons. It’s fine, I always make too many anyway.” She didn’t but there was no need to tell him that. “What flat number does Trip live at anyway?”

“Uh 21.”

“Oh I think I know him! Tall, handsome?”

Fitz prickled. He was handsome too, if in a smaller fluffier kind of way.

“Something like that.”

“He lives next door. This is 22. You can go and get him for pancakes. It’d be nice to meet the neighbour and we can tell him about your drunken escapades.”

Wordlessly and with deep pink cheeks, Fitz left the flat. He kept his head ducked down in shame until he he was out the door. This had to be simultaneously the oddest and the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to him.

~~~

“Man, no! And then what?”

“She takes pity on me and lets me crash on her couch.”

“You are never gonna live this down.”

“I’m so embarrassed. She wants us to go and have pancakes now! How am I going to go back there?” 

“I’m gonna make you, that’s how. I always wanted to have an excuse to talk to the pretty girl next door.”

Oh crap. He hadn’t realised it until now but he wanted to be the one talking to her.There went the last slither of hope of catching this girl’s interest. It hadn’t looked good to begin with, but he could never compete against Trip. Which would she rather have, a blubbering idiot or someone whom she described as “tall and handsome”.

Maybe he’d be invited to their wedding, he thought glumly. Or maybe it was the hangover talking.

~~~

She took a moment to compose herself. She’d been trying to act tough and intimidating since she was first awoken last night and it was exhausting. Why had she offered him pancakes? She pondered the question and couldn’t conceive a reasonable answer.

There was just something about him.

Suddenly her reverie broke as she realised she should get dressed before he returned with her neighbour.

~~~

Next thing he knew, he’d been dragged back to Flat 22 and Trip’s smile had been turned up an extra 20 watts. She’d gotten dressed in the 5 minutes or so he was away. Fitz was suddenly aware of his day old, booze soaked clothing.

He couldn’t even remember what had happened for it to smell that bad. He’d gone to the local bar for a drink and then… his memory fades out. He usually only had a drink or two at the weekend. And why he'd tried to get into Trip's flat was a complete mystery. 

That whiskey he had must have been stronger than he thought.  

They sat at the small kitchen table whilst Jemma hopped around the kitchen preparing breakfast. She told Trip about the whole thing from her perspective.

“There was this crash and I thought it might be pipes or something.”

“Girl, pipes don’t crash.”

“I know, I know but it was the middle of the night. I wasn’t thinking straight!”

Fitz remained silent. As soon as he’d eaten enough to be polite he made his excuses to leave.

He was sure he’d never see her again.

~~~

A month later he received a text from Mack.

 **[21.03]** Turbo, check FB. I’ve been messaging you! Awesome links!!!

Sighing, he returned to his laptop and opened a new tab. He didn’t use social media that much so who knows how long Mack had waited for him to see his messages.

He had a new chat, a couple notifications and a friend request.

He checked the chat first. Sure enough it was Mack. He’d sent him a bunch of links. They varied from cat videos to pages about welding techniques. The oldest unseen ones dated back a couple months. Whoops. He’d look at them later.

He checked the notifications. He’d been tagged in a couple group photos. Fitz cringed at the grumpy expression on his face. He’d been having fun at the time but that never seemed to show in pictures.

Finally he checked the friend request, not expecting much. He ignored ones that weren’t close friends and family usually. But he recognised the name.

Jemma Simmons.

And there she was, her grin shining out of her profile picture. Before he knew what he was doing he’d accepted.

How long ago had she sent this? He couldn’t have been hard to find, although he didn’t know if he’d ever told her his name. Trip could have easily told her or she could found him in Trip’s list of friends.

He knew they’d hung out a couple times. Trip had mentioned it. Right before Fitz had changed the topic.

Maybe she thought that his lack of acceptance meant he didn’t want to talk to her.

He opened up a chat window with her and tried to compose an apology.

 **[Jemma Simmons] - Offline**  
Hey, I’m sorry it took me forever to accept your request. I don’t really use facebook that much.

He wanted to add more but he couldn’t think of anything funny or witty to say so he sent it as it was. The moment it had been delivered, he regretted it.

It was too terse. He should have apologised again for breaking in. He should have suggested meeting up. It was all wrong but he couldn’t send another message. It would look weird.

For the next couple days he kept the facebook tab open, refreshing it periodically. Waiting for her to come online.

Then just as he was thinking of maybe writing another message, she was online.

He felt like Jay Gatsby staring at the green light as he gazed at the green dot next to her name.

A few seconds later the message was marked as read. A few seconds after that the three dots of doom appeared, pulsing. She was writing a reply.

She was probably still angry. She’d probably say something he couldn’t reply to. Like ‘k’. Oh please don’t let it be that.

The message appeared. Fitz kept his eyes closed, bracing himself. He peeked.

 **[Jemma Simmons] - Online**  
Oh no, that’s fine! :) I don’t use it that much myself. But I did still want to stay in contact with you. I hope that’s ok. How are you? Not still getting really drunk, I hope! Seeing as we both don’t really use facebook, here’s my number -

The sentence ended with a string of numbers. Holy… She given him her number. She’d given him her number!

He punched a fist in the air and whooped.

~~~

What had she been thinking? That was such a forward message. She should never have given him her phone number so soon. He’d think she was desperate.

And it was so unlike the intimidating facade she’d kept up for most of his ‘visit’. He’d think she was two faced.

After he hadn’t accepted her request for so long she’d given up hope of ever seeing him again. Now here was her chance and she’d blown it.

Jemma flopped her head back on the pillow and moaned.

The silence was shattered when her phone buzzed from across the room. Leaping up, she grappled the phone. A text!

 **[From: Unknown Number]**  
It is actually very unusual for me to get properly drunk. I want to meet you when I’m not inebriated or hungover. Let’s go out. If you want to that is.

She put the number into her contacts so that she couldn’t lose it and then, with shaking fingers, sent one of the most risky texts of her life.

 **[To: Leo Fitz]**  
What? Like a date?

She held her breath. The seconds dragged. Regret seeped through her bones. She began to think he was purposely not responding when a reply came through. Her phone flashed for attention. 

But she couldn’t bring herself to read it. Everytime she reached for the phone a wave of nausea hit her. So instead Jemma chucked the it down somewhere and tried to distract herself. She watched a TV show and took a shower. She went to bed.

But she couldn’t fall asleep without knowing.

She sat up, turned on the light and retrieved her phone from the floor. There were two new messages.  

 **[From: Leo Fitz]**  
It is if you want it to be.

 **[From: Leo Fitz]**  
I hope you want it to be.

**Author's Note:**

> And then they rode off into the sunset and lived happily ever after. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know if you liked it?
> 
> Chapter Notes -   
> 1\. Jemma's dreams is based on a couple of my recent ones.   
> 2\. Fitz is apparently a weepy drunk in this fic because why not.   
> 3\. Also I have this weirdly clear mental image of Jemma's flat and I'm not sure where it came from.  
> 4\. There's inconsistencies with how I structure the texts but whatever.


End file.
